


A True and Honest Good

by mssrj_335



Series: FinnPoe Purple Prose [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Body Language, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Finnpoe - Freeform, Finntrospection, M/M, POV Poe Dameron, Poe’s Love Language is Physical Touch, Poe’s good at reading Finn guys, Post-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Post-TRoS, Purple Prose, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, Some non-canon content, Some pet names, Supportive Poe Dameron, feelings of worthlessness, good communication, thats what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:21:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24985261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mssrj_335/pseuds/mssrj_335
Summary: Poe's pretty sure he knows what Finn's thinking about. He's got to go about this carefully, though, or Finn will shutter it all back in and put on that brave face he's cultivated. It makes Poe's stomach clench. He watched Finn build that polished veneer when he realized there wasn't a mask to hide the feelings he once telegraphed so clearly. On one hand, it's good that he has it. On the other, it's the worst thing Poe's ever seen. Especially when it's directed at him.—Finn encounters some nasty remarks about his past. Poe can read it in his body, and decides to talk him through it
Relationships: Finn/Poe Dameron, Poe Dameron/Finn
Series: FinnPoe Purple Prose [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1744870
Comments: 26
Kudos: 105





	A True and Honest Good

**Author's Note:**

> Just some stuff
> 
> I sometimes wonder how much shit Finn got for being a stormtrooper and how he deals with it, he’s gotta get tired sometimes

Finn looks absolutely, devastatingly handsome. Like something out of holo-drama, windswept and gorgeous. He's leaned over a balustrade overlooking the Silver Sea. Flashes of burnished evening sun light on its surface, transpose themselves onto the topography of his face, highlighting the line of his jaw, the dip of his chin below his bottom lip. His fingers tangle together almost carelessly, his entire weight rested on two forearms and one leg. Coat unbuttoned. It's hanging loose off his shoulders. A once-pressed shirt is partially untucked, rucked up over the curve of his spine as he leans. He's unarmored.

The entire scene looks surreal. Beautiful.

Too bad he's brooding.

Poe sighs.

To anyone else, it might look like Finn's just lost in thought, trying to sort out what he's feeling in the swell of the sea. They'd be partially correct. He is lost in thought, definitely of the not-good variety. And Poe sees more. He sees an edge in the line of Finn's shoulders, a tightness in the way his fingers lay against each other. What could pass for ease at the end of a long day is betrayed by the way Finn's mouth pinches in the corner. There's a weariness that permeates him. Poe's chest aches.

Poe's pretty sure he knows what Finn's thinking about. He's got to go about this carefully, though, or Finn will shutter it all back in and put on that brave face he's cultivated. It makes Poe's stomach clench. He watched Finn build that polished veneer when he realized there wasn't a mask to hide the feelings he once telegraphed so clearly. On one hand, it's good that he has it. On the other, it's the worst thing Poe's ever seen. Especially when it's directed at him.

The balcony door slides open with a soft hiss. Poe steps out and Finn immediately straightens. A tired smile pulls at his mouth, Poe can already see that invisible mask sliding down Finn's face.

"Hey," Poe breathes.

"Hey yourself." Finn's shoving his hands in his pockets even as he turns to face Poe all the way. His body's saying two different things and it's all there for Poe to read.

"You ok?"

Finn sighs. "Yeah... Yeah, I'm fine."

He still leans on the railing, hip cocked against it. Poe can tell he's going for nonchalant. He's not as successful as he thinks. Poe takes a couple steps toward him, a hand outstretched and upturned. It's not a verbal cue, it's something Poe's learned by watching Finn. A simple open-palm surrender can soften Finn enough to let Poe worm past his walls. At this point, Poe's pretty sure Finn hasn't caught on. He might be wrong, but he'll keep trying it until it doesn't work anymore.

"You wanna talk about it?"

Finn's mouth turns back down, his eyes narrow just a bit. A chip in the mask. "About what?"

Poe finally steps into his space, easing that open palm around Finn's tricep. "Dumb's not a good look for you, sweetheart."

Finn sighs again. It sounds a little more harangued than before and he drops his eyes. Apparently, looking at Chandrila's bright sea is easier than looking at Poe.

"It's not a big deal," Finn murmurs. "It's not."

It doesn't sound like he's trying to convince Poe, despite what Finn himself might think. Poe waits. He watches Finn's body for another sign. Salty air barely sways the tips of Finn's hair. His hands are still in his pockets, his shoulders more hunched than before. Ok, Poe knows what to say to that.

"Mm," is all. Just a noise, a quiet question buried in the upturned inflection at the end.

He brushes his thumb back and forth where it sits on Finn's arm. Through the jacket, Finn's muscles tense.

Ah.

Finn turns fully away from him now but his hands slip out of his pockets. Instead of reaching for Poe like Poe wanted him to, Finn's fingers grip the balustrade so tight his knuckles pale. He's still in Poe's sphere, though. Poe can still feel the heat of him, he's so close. Ok, Finn's feeling adrift. Needs an anchor. Poe takes a soft breath in through his nose, sea scent overpowering the familiar smell of Finn's skin. He can't have that. Not right now. Poe moves on instinct, coming to stand behind Finn, arms wrapping loosely around his middle, hands settling at his belt buckle. Finn's pulled taut against him. Poe buries his face in the crest of Finn's shoulders, his cheek rubbing two small circles before Finn pushes out a gusty sigh.

"There we go," Poe mumbles.

He hadn't meant to say it out loud but it makes Finn chuckle once. It's nearly silent; Poe can feel it in the way Finn's shoulders hitch. He presses himself against Finn as close as he can, and his eyes flutter closed. It's easy to navigate Finn like this. He can feel what words won't speak. All the little nuances that are lost under Finn's clothes come to light. Finn's heart pounds like the heavy waves below, his breath coming too short for how still he is. But he's not trying to leave. Poe tightens his grip minutely, pressing himself more into Finn's hard lines until he can feel them start to soften.

"Talk to me, sweetheart."

Finn swallows hard, it takes a few seconds before the words come.

"I..." He freezes. Poe doesn't say a word. "I thought I would be enough. I thought winning would be enough."

There it is. Chandrila was supposed to be about peace talks, but it certainly hadn't started that way. Poe can still hear the senator's nasty words. That cretin hadn't even met Finn before but knowing his past was enough to pass judgement. Poe can still see the look on Finn's face before that veneer came shuddering down. Hurt. Dismay. Finn had been stiff, robotic, the rest of the day. A million light-years away. And now they're here. Poe opens his eyes.

He has to be careful.

"Do you remember that mission to Kelada?"

Finn tilts his head back and bumps it against Poe's. Yes. An exasperated yes. He probably already knows where this is going, but Poe pushes on anyway. There's a point to be made, and Finn needs to see it again.

"I do," he continues. "We were trying to track down that new contact, found him at The Labyrinth cantina. He said the same thing that bastard senator did--"

"'Why trust a _stormtrooper_?'" Finn cuts in. His voice is bitter, body stiffening again as he quotes, "'They're always evil. Can't untrain that.'"

Poe hates that Finn remembers it almost verbatim. He wants to scrub it out. Instead, he tightens his grip and says, "Good memory. So you should remember what you said to Usho, right?"

Again, Finn sighs and some of the fight drains out of him this time. "Yeah."

Poe pokes Finn's stomach, just above the belt where his hands lay. "And?"

Finn huffs, tries pulls himself from Poe's grasp. Poe doesn't let him get far. He keeps firm hands on Finn's elbow and spins him round, making him face Poe when he clearly doesn't want to.

"What’d you say?" he prompts.

"Probably something stupid."

Poe pulls a face and raps Finn a couple times right on his noggin. Despite the cloud over his head, it makes Finn smile, which is what he was hoping for.

"Try again, Big Deal. I know you've got a big sexy brain in there and only Threepio remembers stuff better than you do. What'd you say?"

"I think it was, 'Doesn't matter where you come from, it only matters what you do with the time you're given.'"

Poe grins. "Perfect. Knew you could do it." Finn smiles back but Poe can still see that heaviness clinging to him. "So what's the deal?"

Finn stares at his boots. "This is different."

"It's no different," Poe argues. "It's only different in your head."

"It _is_ different, Poe!" There's some of that fire and boy, doesn't it just burn in Finn's eyes. "This is a leader of the Republic, someone we worked very _very_ hard to save. If he's still saying that then--"

Oh, no.

"Then... What if it's true. What if he sees something I can't?" His voice cracks the tiniest bit and Poe's heart absolutely breaks. "You don't always see the looks, Poe. That guy might've said it out loud, but there were at least a dozen others saying it with the way they acted."

His shoulders slump; he's never looked more defeated. Poe has to swallow past a hard lump in his throat. He wants to hold Finn tight enough that he never sees another face again, but that wouldn't be fair. And he can't get his hands to cooperate besides.

"They're scared of me," Finn mumbles. "Even after all we've done." His eyes look a little wet as he meets Poe's gaze. One hand waves between them in an abortive, helpless gesture. "Poe, are they right? Am I--am I bad?"

That one, terrible question zips through Poe's limbs and spurs him forward. "Finn, _no_." His hands frame Finn's face, feeling the tension tight in his jaw. "Sweetheart, you were _never_ bad." His fingers curl around the nape of Finn's neck, the thumb of his right hand sweeping over Finn's cheekbone. "What the First Order did to the galaxy? That was bad. What the First Order did to _you_? _That_ was bad. What these people are making you feel? _That's bad_."

Finn's right hand comes up and rests on Poe's forearm. The left finds Poe's hand on his face and presses it in, like he can't get enough of the contact.

"You have never been bad," Poe repeats. "The First Order couldn't make you that way. No one can."

Finn gives him a wan smile but his brow pinches. Ok, Poe can read that, too. He knows that says like Finn doesn't really believe him so he goes on.

"You're brave and honest and you care so much sometimes it hurts to watch. And I do watch. I see all the big things you do, and the little things. Finn, you're the best of us now."

"Poe--"

"If there's one constant in the galaxy, it's that you will do right. You are good. You've proved that over and over. No one's words would ever change that, not even mine. And especially not theirs. It didn't matter on Kelada and it doesn't matter now. Because I know you. They're wrong. It's as simple as that."

It feels like saying a lot and not enough all at once. But Poe stops. Waits. Finn seems to be thinking, his gaze lost somewhere around Poe's clavicle. It takes a few seconds but finally, most of that tension drains away. Finn's lips part just lightly, a soft breath escaping into the salty breeze. Finn's fingers circle Poe's wrist and peel his hand away just enough so Finn's head can turn, pressing a kiss to his palm.

At that, Poe smiles, as gently as he can. He gathers Finn into his arms, tucking Finn's face into the crook of his neck and shoulder, threading his fingers into the hair at the base of Finn's head. As much as he can, he projects what he feels, what he knows and loves about Finn into the line of their bodies. Finn's hands settle at the small of Poe's back and they stay like that, for a while. Chandrila's star sinks lower in the sky, kissing the horizon in shades of lavender. Blues and orange. A wispy, faint red. As the heat of the day dies, so too do the waves and the wind. In the cooling evening, the only sounds left are the gentle lap of the water and Finn's even breath. Everything stills. At peace, at last. Poe can feel it in the way Finn breathes, in the heavy weight of his head on Poe's shoulder, the way his hands come up and cling in Poe's shirt.

In the last few minutes of daylight, Finn heaves a great sigh. The rest of his weariness sloughs away and he pulls back. Poe can read that, too. He's ok.

"Thank you for reminding me," Finn murmurs.

Poe kisses him in response, a slow, soft slide that stokes a fire in his chest. They stumble away into the bedroom, slick and warm and worshipful in the 'fresher then curled together in decadent sheets to sleep. Poe's parting thought comes back, as always, to Finn. Finn is good. A true and honest good. He may lose sight of that at times but Poe will always, always be happy to remind him.

**Author's Note:**

> Self-edited per ushe, sorry for issues therein
> 
> Love it? Hate it? I like feedback


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